February 26, 2003 (idea)

Words, words. So many words, it's so easy for me to manipulate people and get exactly what I want. I know this. I just look like I don't, which makes it easier. When I
look at her, I can't do it anymore. I just have emotions in my stomach refusing to come out of my mouth, sitting, heavy and effervescent.
So I smile and shut my eyes and there's this aching
feeling of completeness. I mean, fucking listen to me. Christ. When
you have nothing, everything is so much easier to see. I miss the
clarity of my lengthy bitterness.

We tell each other how we feel, but we don't say I love you. It seems too small, too easy. Laziness
is a danger. So we smile a lot. We blink a lot. Sometimes we are just
quiet together.